


Vying for Victory

by joongz



Series: The Dark Affairs [2]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: 1890s, Ballroom Dancing, Dancing, Fae & Fairies, M/M, Rivalry, Vampires, Warlocks, Werewolves, shadowhunters au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28386987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joongz/pseuds/joongz
Summary: Yeosang’s fingers tightened on Seonghwa’s waist—not where they should be during this particular waltz, at all—and he spun him around so that he could spy on their enemy now.That nervous flutter was back, but this time it was not just in Seonghwa’s abdomen, it crawled all over his skin. It awakened his heart and made his next breath come out short and constricted.He shook himself inwardly, this meant nothing. Thiswasnothing. He was just surprised that Yeosang was a fairly good dancer.(Or, an alternative scene toDownworlder's Ball.)
Relationships: Kang Yeosang/Park Seonghwa
Series: The Dark Affairs [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1650769
Comments: 3
Kudos: 27





	Vying for Victory

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!!
> 
> So after [this post](https://twitter.com/atzao3fam/status/1342185879469654016?s=20) I couldn't get the idea of my head, I decided to rewrite the scene in [The Law of Smoke, Chapter 5: Downworlder's Ball](), and have Seonghwa and Yeosang dance angrily while they're kinda flirting hehe 
> 
> It's not much but I HAD to write it, hope you enjoy!!
> 
> (PS: I tried to make the speech appropriate for the time period, but English isn't my first language, so idk how well it turned out. If you have any advice, I'll gladly take it!!)

**New York, November 5th 1899**

Infiltrating Alexander Keaton’s mansion for the Annual Downworlder Winter Ball turned out to be much easier than Seonghwa had anticipated. They had arrived fairly quickly at the location riding the Institute’s carriages, which Irene had provided them with. The drive had been awkward of all sorts, there’d been a tense silence between Seonghwa and Yunho due to their previous fight, Mina and Jinsoul had tried to lighten the mood, but with little success. 

When Seonghwa and Yunho fought it was fire on fire, bright and heated, but they always made up eventually.

Seonghwa was immensely glad the moment he stepped out of the carriage, the warlock’s mansion was only a few blocks away, situated at the Upper East Side of Manhattan. 

Yeosang, Mingi, and Hwanwoong looked much less tense, exiting their carriage whilst animatedly chattering about. Seonghwa glared at Yeosang, merely out of principle by now. They did not get along, never would; that much was clear. Ever since the incident in the Academy, it had been a doomed acquaintanceship. Yeosang was incredibly rude and over confident, and infuriating. Seonghwa did not want to mix with the likes of him.

The warlock’s mansion was built inspired by different artistic Italian movements as Mr Keaton had spent a lot of time there and he was a lover of the country and its architecture. Vines ranked up the walls of the building, the windows emitted a very soft light as the impending winter around them had turned New York so very cold.

Jinsoul, Mina, and Hwanwoong infiltrated through the main door, where a vampire subjugate was receiving the guests with a bored look on their face. Yunho and Mingi stayed back in the beautiful gardens, hiding between the different trees and thick shrubs and exotic flowers—flowers such as belladonna and other illegal ones, the Council would love to have a look at Mr Keaton’s garden—and the ancient looking marble statues. Yunho and Mingi insisted they would search the gardens for answers and information before joining the rest of the group inside of the mansion.

Seonghwa was about to trail after Mina, Jinsoul, and Hwanwoong when Yeosang appeared out of nowhere and dragged him through a side entrance. Seonghwa thought their cover would immediately blow. Yeosang had a knack for getting into unnecessary trouble, but somehow he had convinced the faerie girl not to tell on them, and they entered the warlock’s mansion through the kitchen.

“Mr Kang!” he protested, but was completely ignored.

Seonghwa resented Yeosang a little for it. That effortless and lucky way in which he constantly broke the rules, went against everyone’s orders, and still managed to come out unscathed. He reasoned it was due to Yeosang’s charming personality, which he seemed to utilize on everyone except for Seonghwa; or possibly, it _worked_ on everyone except for Seonghwa, who knew how truly terrible and vexing Yeosang was.

That mad grin graced Yeosang’s lips as he turned around to face Seonghwa, his hand on the handle that would lead them to the rest of the mansion. His brown hair was pinned back, some strands and curls had come loose already, like vines curling on his tan skin and over the lilac mask. Seonghwa’s fingers twitched as he held back a frustrated sigh; he wanted to put those strands back into place.

“Ready, Mr Park?” Yeosang whispered, his eyes alight with mischief and that irreparable need for chaos.

Seonghwa swallowed a flutter of nerves, and said, uncaringly, “Of course I am ready! If it were not for your unnecessary mingling, I would already wander between the Downworlders, getting those desperate answers we need—”

Yeosang rolled his eyes, that grin still in place. He looked away from Seonghwa. “I did not ask for such a detailed novel, Mr Park. I merely asked if you were ready.”

Seonghwa gritted his teeth. He didn’t like to be interrupted, much less by someone like Yeosang—a frustrating fool.

“You are most vexing, Mr Kang,” he hissed, but followed Yeosang out into the ballroom of the mansion.

The abundance of Downworlders momentarily struck Seonghwa: Night Children and Children of the Moon talking and shoving one another playfully; faeries with colorful hair and skin and clothes roamed around with musical giggles accompanying the live orchestra; warlocks of all kind and ages wearing the most fashionable clothes and decorative masks.

For a moment, Seonghwa thought that Yeosang fitted in quite perfectly with his deep purple shirt, scandalously unbuttoned, and the matching lilac mask; his linen pants were the only drab thing about his outfit as they were a simple black. It was entirely carefully put together. The High Warlock of Queens had helped him a great deal. It had been quite a tedious afternoon for Seonghwa as he was not that big on fashion, Hongjoong had immediately picked up on it, not very agreeable towards Seonghwa.

Seonghwa looked dull in comparison to Yeosang—in comparison to most attendees of the ball. He wore black trousers with a white button up and a simple jacket with a colorful brocade that Yunho and Mina had insisted he wear so he would at least have one splash of color.

A servant passed by them: a young warlock, carrying a salver that held several flutes containing a blue and fizzly looking liquid—warlock potions. Seonghwa refused, and slapped Yeosang’s extended hand away.

“We are here on a mission,” he hissed, chastising the younger Shadowhunter.

“We will appear most suspicious if we do not drink anything, you surely must realize that.”

Seonghwa scowled, hating that his nemesis was indeed right. It would look strange if they refused the drinks. 

“Oh, all right,” he said, scanning the room for a servant carrying mundane alcoholic beverages. “There,” he pointed out a faerie woman with green hair, flowers blooming in it, “she carries wine, let us each grab a goblet.”

“Tedious,” Yeosang complained with a subtle roll of his eyes, but he followed along. “I am not surprised you do not know of fun.”

Seonghwa gracefully ignored Yeosang’s nettling commentary.

The voluptuousness of Alexander Keaton’s nature became soon visible as the live orchestra began playing the notes of a quite known waltz by Johann Strauss Jr. It had been a while since Seonghwa had last heard it, during his stay in the Institute of Madrid. Whereas the previous songs had been experimental sounds from San Francisco, scandalous and not at all ball appropriate, it seemed that now the winter ball was in full bloom. 

The Downworlders were galvanized by those first few notes, as if bewitched they let their bodies be led by the music. Immediately they held onto the nearest partner, whom they either were acquaintance with or not at all—in both cases, embarrassed yet radiant smiles danced on their faces.

Seonghwa noticed that in this particular ballroom, the rules of traditional waltzing, and most partner dances, were utterly ignored: it was not bound to a man and a woman. Seonghwa saw two female warlocks dancing together, their bodies pressed closely together; he spotted Hongjoong dancing with a man they hadn’t met yet, from the looks of it a werewolf.

A sudden hand took him by his shoulder blades and spun him around, startling him out of his entranced staring. Seonghwa, very suddenly, found himself in Yeosang’s arms, and he hated how quickly his feet adapted to the waltz. They moved with the other couples in the ballroom. His arm coming up to rest on Yeosang’s shoulder. The music so captivating it moved his body all on its own. 

There was a flutter in his abdomen when he caught up with the sensation of having Yeosang’s firm hand on the back of his ribcage—warm and steady—while the other had found Seonghwa’s own (elusive) hand. Yeosang’s hand was incredibly warm to the touch, even through the fabric of Seonghwa’s gloves. 

He had not expected to be suddenly spun into a waltz, much less by his nemesis. That flutter in his abdomen quickly turned into utmost ire.

Yeosang held him tightly, leading the waltz quite ostentatiously. There was that devilish and mad grin of his coloring his face, and when Seonghwa met his eyes behind the lilac mask, Yeosang had the audacity to wink at him. 

“What is it? Do not tell me you have never waltzed before?” he asked archly when Seonghwa did not react at all. “Though,” he continued, with a glance at Seonghwa’s feet, which had a mind of their own, following Yeosang’s obediently, “you are not doing such a dreadful job, as I thought. Which is, I may say, pleasantly surprising.”

The words shot through Seonghwa, startling him out of his surprise and shock, like an arrow coated with anger and irritation. He moved his hand away from Yeosang’s shoulder, trailing down his back until it rested above his waist. He purposefully dug his fingers into the fabric of Yeosang’s shirt to assess dominance, feeling the heat emitted from his skin. He shifted, forcing Yeosang’s hand to rest now on Seonghwa’s shoulder, their dancing positions switched.

He spun Yeosang then, in the direction of those that were being led, allowing a quick smirk when Yeosang’s eyes widened. He seemed not to have expected this, his body growing momentarily lax, as though he had conformed with letting Seonghwa lead the waltz. 

Then, his dark brown eyes became darker, and much more determined. His fingers, entertwined with Seonghwa’s, tightened nearly painfully so. 

“I see you were merely pretending not to know the dance, though I cannot imagine why,” he said, eyebrows knitted together as their feet danced, but he tried to take the lead again. Seonghwa was holding him so very fervently, to avoid Yeosang from switching their positions again. He grinned at the irked exhale Yeosang let out. “Is this—” he began with difficulty, very obviously frustrated now. 

He glowered at Seonghwa, muttering imprecations under his breath.

“Your attention should not be in the talking but in the steps, Mr Kang,” he said. “It is not so surprising you are terrible at being led, with those wayward ways of yours.”

Yeosang’s eyebrows shot up. “What is it that you could mean by those words?” He said it playfully though. 

“Oh, I have faith you are reflective enough—although, you may pleasantly surprise me if you ever showed a slither of thought.”

Yeosang had a teasing smile. They spun around with the rest of Downworlders, their feet moving with ease and in such a synchronization, it astounded Seonghwa. Yeosang was the last person he had imagined to have a perfectly harmonic waltz with.

“Your words wound me, though you deliver them so charmingly, it hardly feels like an insult.”

Seonghwa frowned at that. It was infuriating. 

“That is _not_ my intention. I do hope they sting your pride—” 

He didn’t get to finish his sentence as Yeosang once again regained dominance in the dance, smiling condescendingly at Seonghwa, even if he was a bit shorter than him.

“Alexander Keaton,” he whispered suddenly. “He has just entered the ballroom.”

Yeosang’s fingers tightened on Seonghwa’s waist—not where they should be during this particular waltz, at all—and he spun him around so that he could spy on their enemy now.

That nervous flutter was back, but this time it was not just in Seonghwa’s abdomen, it crawled all over his skin. It awakened his heart and made his next breath come out short and constricted.

He shook himself inwardly, this meant nothing. This _was_ nothing. He was just surprised that Yeosang was a fairly good dancer.

Still caught on Yeosang’s fingers on his waist, the right amount of pressure put into them, Seonghwa let himself be led for a brief moment, collecting his thoughts and recovering from the shock and the irritation… Mentally, he prepared himself to face the warlock they’d come to the ball for.

Suddenly, Yeosang’s lips were caressing the shell of his ear. It sent quite a powerful shiver down his spine, one he knew Yeosang most likely felt as they were so close, hands on each other.

“He is on his way over here,” Yeosang told him. When he drew back there was that devilish grin tugging at his lips, and he said, his fingers sharp as knives, “Behave, for once, and let me lead this dance.”

“You must be delusional if you even think that I will let you—”

Yeosang clicked with his tongue, a most arrogant gesture. “Mr Park,” he interrupted him. “Are you so full of pride that you would compromise our mission?”

Seonghwa gritted his teeth together, clutching Yeosang’s hand in the hopes it would break his bones, but Yeosang merely grinned. His hand was still fatally on Seonghwa’s waist; he could feel the other’s thumb digging into the flesh underneath his ribs.

Despite his anger and frustration, he couldn’t deny that the touch felt like heavenly fire, which Seonghwa had not felt in a while, that consumed his body and soul, surrendering to a night of pleasures. He could imagine this specific kind of languor would look gorgeous on Yeosang: exhausted with bright pink cheeks, sweat tangling that unruly hair of his, and his lips parted in ecstasy.

Seonghwa had the decency to blush at those thoughts. _Thank the Angel, he cannot read my mind_ , he thought inwardly.

Yeosang held a smug smile as he led Seonghwa through the dance. “You are not such a terrible dance partner, after all. Not like this, at least, docile in my arms.”

The words nearly made Seonghwa choke, and protest in utmost anger and indignation.

“Now, that _is_ insulting, Mr Kang!” 

He tried to untangle himself, regain dominance once again, but Yeosang appeared to have other plans. His fingers on Seonghwa’s waist tightened once, he squeezed Seonghwa’s gloved hand. In his dark eyes, there was a mischievous twinkle.

“This has been most charming, I must say, Mr Park,” he said. “In my short life on Earth, I have had the pleasure of dancing with many lucky ladies and gentlemen, but none have upheld quite as well as you, surprisingly.” The backhanded compliment shouldn’t have the effect it did on Seonghwa, but he couldn’t help the little thrill he felt. “Do not flatter yourself, though, you are most stiff.” He laughed.

“You should not flatter yourself either, Mr Kang. Your techniques are sloppy at best. You are far too quick, the waltz requires patience and coordination between the partners. Not this playful madness you have put into it.”

“Playful madness?” Yeosang echoed, amused. “I shall take that as a compliment. It does fit my character quite well, does it not?” A wicked grin crossed his lips and eyes. “You seem to have quite a good understanding of it—my character I mean by that. Why is that, I wonder?”

“Absolutely no reason, Mr Kang. You are a clear fool, much too open with your indulgences and temperament. Anyone could see right through you!”

Yeosang twirled them, now it was Seonghwa who had a clear view on Mr Keaton, who was speaking with two vampires only a few feet from them. In all the arguing, he had utterly forgotten about their objective for the night. He clenched his jaw, hating how Yeosang was still the one dominating the waltz. How had Seonghwa allowed himself to be led like this?

“Despite your very obvious displeasure against me, it is me you have danced with through this waltz and not a fair lady; is that not most vexing, Mr Park?” 

Seonghwa squinted his eyes, appalled.

Before he could turn the dance around or protest, Yeosang suddenly detached himself from him. He bowed his head in an extremely mocking way.

“As pleasurable as this dance has been, I intend on following our lead. I doubt Mr Keaton will be available for long, I shall seize this opportunity.” He patted Seonghwa’s shoulder condescendingly. “Thank you for the dance, Mr Park. It was unexpectedly enjoyable.”

When Yeosang sauntered off, smug as a demon from the last depths of Hell, his eyes twinkling with the familiar mischief, Seonghwa stood frozen in the mansion’s ballroom. The Downworlders all around him were still dancing to the waltz. His heart was high in his throat, his face was beginning to burn in embarrassment, and his hands were trembling.

For a crazy moment, Seonghwa wanted to reach out his hand to grab Yeosang’s, pull him back, and tell him how rude it was to walk off in the middle of the waltz. He wanted them to follow the rhythm of the next waltz too since they had done it so effortlessly—knowing and meeting each other’s tempos, steps, dips and twirls—but he held back; his fingers twitched with a yet unfamiliar need and desperation. 

Seonghwa watched Yeosang meddle with the crowd, amicably speaking to their enemy, and he wondered what the night could have looked like were they not nemesis themselves.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! ^^
> 
> love you all and happy new year!!💛💛💛


End file.
